


Discourse with Number Four

by OneOverClover



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: But Klaus hates it, Doughnut abuse, Everyone loves Klaus even if they pretend they don't, Five chose a name, Flashbacks, Gen, Relationship Study, There's really no point to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26106802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOverClover/pseuds/OneOverClover
Summary: As kids, Klaus and Five sneak out of the house to get doughnuts. As adults, Klaus is just trying to find a way to show his brother that he cares about him.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106





	Discourse with Number Four

April 10, 2002

_“This is such bullshit.”_

_It’s dinnertime, and the Hargreeves children are all sat around the dining room table in their respective places. It’s a warm spring day, and Grace is cheerily making her way around to everyone placing steamed broccoli on their plates. Grilled chicken and broccoli – the standard Wednesday dinner in their household._

_“Language, Number Five,” their mother chides._

_“Why can’t we have something normal kids eat for a change? Dad’s not even here today!”_

_“I’ve heard pizza is really good,” Three chimes in._

_Grace finishes placing vegetables on Seven’s plate and sets the serving utensils down. “Now children, your father designed this nutrition regiment to provide fuel for your growing bodies. It’s not something you can take a break from just because he’s away on business.”_

_Their mother turns heel and walks off toward the kitchen as if that is the final word on the matter._

_Five leans over his plate, eyebrows knitted together fiercely, “I’m getting out of here tonight.” He stabs a finger onto the surface of the table punctuating his words. “And I’m going to eat anything and everything I want.”_

_“That’s crazy, dad wouldn’t allow it,” One says._

_“It’s crazy for the old man to keep us all trapped inside this house,” Five says spearing his chicken with a fork and leaving it there._

_“It’s really not a good idea, Five,” Six adds in meekly._

_“I’ll go with you,” says Four._

_“Of course, he’ll go with you. He’s a lunatic,” Two says through a mouthful of food._

_Five stands and slaps his palms down on the table, “Then that settles it. Tonight, Four and I are breaking out. Just the two of us since none of you have the balls to join us.”_

_With that, the boy leaves the room, leaving his dinner entirely untouched._

_***_

_It’s just past 11 when Five finds the door to Four’s bedroom cracked open. Not bothering to knock, he pushes it forward on its hinges, revealing that his brother is standing in the dead center of the room staring into a corner. It might be unnerving for anyone unaccustomed to the sight._

_Five strolls up to him casually with his hands in his pockets, “Someone there?”_

_“Yeah,” Four says not peeling his eyes away from the walls. “They look really…”_

_“Really what?”_

_“Really fucked up.”_

_Five is usually pretty serious, but his face contorts to hold back laughter at that revelation. “Hey, come on,” he says placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Let’s bust out of here.”_

_In the blink of an eye Five phases out of the room and reappears on the fire escape outside. Their bedroom windows are latched on both the inside and the outside. As if their father actually thinks he can prevent them from sneaking out. He pops the outside latch and bangs on the window. His brother’s attention is finally pulled away from the unseen apparition, and Four comes over and opens the window from the inside. “I’ve never been outside the house this late,” he says climbing outside, “Maybe we’ll run into a gang!”_

_“I think we could probably take them,” Five says as he descends the rickety metal stairs. “At least I could anyway.”_

_“I was thinking maybe we could join them. Hey! You know we’re kind of like a gang – the six of us.”_

_They walk about ten blocks west of their house and Four doesn’t shut up the whole way. Five saunters along ignoring him. He’s taught himself how to build a mental wall between himself and Four whenever his brother starts going through long periods of spouting nonsense. He thinks it might be a better power than his spatial jumps._

_He doesn’t pay any mind to Four until he feels a hand grab him by the elbow and stop him in his tracks, “Hey, let’s get Doughnuts!”_

_Four has stopped him in front of a beat up looking old shop with a faded yellow sign that reads ‘Griddy’s Doughnuts.’_

_Five puts the heel of his hand on his forehead and shakes his head at his bother’s ignorance, “They’re closed. People usually eat doughnuts for breakfast.” His voice is starting to change, and the word ‘breakfast’ comes out as a croak._

_Such a dejected look falls across Four’s face that it actually causes Five to feel bad for him. “Fine, I’ll pop in and see if there’s anything left over.”_

_Four claps his hands together and squeals with a giddiness that makes Five regret his offer. Leaving his brother behind, he crosses the parking lot and blinks into the building. It’s dark inside, but he can clearly see the doughnut display cases are empty. Wanting to leave no stone unturned, he pushes through the swinging door to the kitchen. There’s nothing of note until he checks an unlabeled carboard box near the back door – jackpot. It’s filled nearly to the brim with an assortment of untouched doughnuts. Obviously excess product that was meant to be thrown out. With a quick look over his shoulder, he snatches the box off the counter and phases through the door into a side alley. Four is already back there poking at a long-deceased bird carcass with a stick. “You know, for a guy terrified of dead people, you sure have a hard-on for animal corpses.”_

_Four shrugs, “Animals don’t stick around after they die.”_

_“Good for them. Check this out.” He holds out the box in front of him._

_Four drops his stick and moves to peer inside. “Woah, look at all those!”_

_His brother grabs the most colorful, pink-frosted pastry off the top and bites into it. His pupils practically dilate with the instant sugar rush, and he starts chomping it down like a starved wolf. Five had wanted his sibling to be guinea pig to see if the snacks were still any good, but now he’s feeling left out of the fun. He sets the box down on a bench and takes a small bite of something oblong and smeared with chocolate._

_Desserts in the Hargreeves house were a once-a-year occurrence. Each year on their birthday, they each received a single slice of cake. Now with no regulations, Five feels like he has to take advantage of this small piece of freedom. He starts putting Four to shame with the sheer speed in which he scarfs the pastry down. As soon as the first is finished, he grabs another out of the box. The second one is gone in less than 15 seconds. Four is laughing at him, but he doesn’t care._

_“Fucking dad – holding us hostage,” he speaks between mouthfuls. “Like we couldn’t take care of ourselves – We could just leave – Overpower him and mom and Pogo – go where we want do what we want.”_

_Four pauses his eating, “Where would we go? We don’t have any money.”_

_“Doesn’t matter.” He’s lost count of how many doughnuts he’s gone through at this point, and he’s beginning to feel knots in his stomach. “We have powers – We could find ways to make money – Three could just tell people to give us money – You of all people should want this more than anyone.”_

_Four swallows and sets down the rest of his half-eaten doughnut, “We’re just kids.”_

_“We aren’t just kids – We’re a force to be reckoned with – I’m a…” A sudden rush of saliva to his mouth puts a stop to his rant. Oh no._

_Five makes a run for the gutter, but only makes it halfway before the retching starts. He’s in too much of a state to spatial jump, and he bends over and vomits on the asphalt. The overspray splashes onto his shoes. He begins to straighten up, but just as he thinks he’s in the clear a second wave hits him. Five’s head is swimming, and when he heaves the next time, he loses his balance and falls forward. His arms fly out preparing to land in his own puke, but he never hits the pavement._

_Four has caught him under the arms and is holding him up. “Wow, it looks like a kaleidoscope”_

_Five can’t do anything except just hang there in his brother’s grip. He gags once more, emptying his stomach before Four drags him over the bench and sets him down. Using his sleeve, Five wipes across his mouth and then spits bile onto the ground. Four is crouched down looking at him with a strange mixture of concern and amusement._

_It’s starting to rain, and Five feels small and a lot more helpless than he probably is. He hates feeling like this. Feeling like he owes something to someone. He treats four like shit sometimes because his power is pretty much useless. He probably doesn’t treat any of his siblings as well as he should._

_“That was wicked,” Four says enthusiastically. “You okay?”_

_“Yeah,” He nods. “Yeah, just… thanks.”_

_Four throws his hands up in the air and bounces on his heels, “What should we do now?”_

_“Let’s… let’s just head home.”_

_\-------------------------------------_

Klaus can’t even begin to count the number of couches he’s slept on in his life, but Allison’s has to be at least in the top ten. Of course, any surface starts to feel like a plush five-star cushion when you are shit-tanked on strawberry daiquiris. Oh, well at least he’s still conscious. That’s more than he can say for his sister right now. Allison is slumped over in a cushy chair with her feet propped up on the coffee table. Her mouth hangs open and drool is dripping down onto her collar. Klaus chuckles at the thought of the paparazzi from her old life catching her like this. Ben has left. Or maybe Klaus is too far gone to see him. Sometimes it’s hard for him to tell. Schrodinger’s brother.

He feels himself being pulled under by the intoxication when someone raps sharply on the front door. “Allison. Allison, someone’s here,” He calls out, but his sister doesn’t budge. The knocking continues.

“Fuck, fine…” he grumbles stumbling as he stands.

He doesn’t make it all the way to the front door before Five blinks inside still looking exactly like his young teenage self. The surprise nearly knocks Klaus onto his ass.

“Good you’re here. Saves me the trouble of chasing after both of you.” Still just as smug as ever.

Klaus recovers then throws his arms open as if he actually expects his brother to hug him. “Oh my god, it’s you. It’s been so long!”

“And you’re drunk,” Five says ducking under one of his arms. “Don’t know why I would have expected any different.”

“Exqueeze me. Hypocritical much?” he flings his hands to his sides dramatically and spins around to see Five approaching Allison.

“Touché,” he says almost agreeably. “I have to say, I expected more out of the illustrious Number Three.” Five puts a hand on his sister’s face and starts lightly slapping her cheek. “Hey, come on sleeping beauty. Family meeting. We need you up.”

Klaus knows Five is being much gentler with her than he would be with him. Allison’s eyes open and groggily latch onto her brother’s teenage face. “Oh shit, Five.” She grabs him round his neck and pulls him into a hug. Five allows it. “It’s been a long time.”

“So I’ve heard,” He pulls himself from Allison’s grip. “But I just got here.”

“You mean in Dallas or in 1963?” Klaus asks.

“Look at him, he’s still 13- ”

Five cuts her off, “We can talk about it on the way, right now I need the two of you to get ready to go. The others are waiting.”

“Fine,” she says wiping a hand across her blurry vision. “Can you let me sober up in the shower. I don’t want them to see me like this.”

Five gives her a knowing look, “Alright, just don’t take too long.” Allison always takes too long. 

As she heads to the bathroom, he turns his attention to Klaus. “You, drink some water.”

Five paces around the living room while he pours himself a glass of water from the tap. “Do you mind chilling out for a minute? All this pent-up energy is more than I can stomach right now.”

Five starts to say something, but as if on cue his stomach growls loud enough for Klaus to hear in the other room. “When was the last time you ate?”

Five furrows his brows as if thinking about the question. Logically, Klaus knows his brother is a 58-year-old man trapped in a child’s body, but sometimes he just looks at those dimples and can’t help but want to baby him. “Sit down, I’ll make you something.”

Given the benign nature of his powers, Klaus has always felt pretty useless compared to the rest of his siblings. Yet somehow, he’s the only one who has ever learned how to properly cook anything. He’s damn good at it too, and Five seems to acknowledge this by scraping one of the chairs out from under the kitchen table. “Fuck it, not like she’s coming out of there any time soon.”

Klaus claps his hands and rubs them together, “Let the Séance work his magic.”

Five rolls his eyes so hard they’re in danger of dislodging from his skull, “Are you still calling yourself that?”

“Only when I’m really feeling myself,” he slurs opening Allison’s fridge to take stock of the ingredients he has on hand: tomatoes, onions, eggs. Yeah, he can work with this. He sets everything out on the counter and pulls out a knife and cutting board.

“I don’t think you’re sober enough to be handling sharp objects,” Five says watching him from the table.

Klaus shushes him. “I do my best work with some culinary lubrication.” He gets to work chopping vegetables, only nicking himself once (Which he keeps to himself, fighting back the strong urge to whine about it). His brother sitting behind him feels like bizarre weight on his soul. He wants to turn around and tell Five that he’s missed him. That it’s been hard without him. When someone is important to Klaus, he likes to tell them. That just doesn’t work with his siblings. Least of all Five.

Everyone else might say that Luther is the Hargreeves that cares about his family the most, but Klaus knows that’s not the case. Not anymore. Five would do _anything_ for them. There’s no way of knowing how much blood is on his hands from his efforts to get back to his brothers and sisters. He shows affection through acts of service. There isn’t much Klaus can do for him in that regard, but he can at least make him lunch.

The simmering from the stove and the sound of the shower running in the background are the only audible noises in the room. The quiet makes Klaus anxious. Always has. It’s probably a holdover from his childhood.

He’s digging through Allison’s spice rack looking for cumin when he decides he finally can’t take it anymore. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Five has his elbow propped up on the table with his head resting in his palm. “I really wish you wouldn’t”

It seems like a request that’s just dying to be ignored. “Did you really spend decades fucking that mannequin in the apocalypse?”

His question is met with a silent glare.

Klaus licks a wooden spoon testing the seasoning, “I mean, no judgement – it’s me after all – but out of curiosity how does that even work?”

Five raps his knuckles against the table, “I’m not fueling your sick fantasies today.”

“Oh, trust me, I already have enough fuel to last ten lifetimes.” He holds the spoon over his heart with a flat palm. “I could give you some pointers, you know. About real women. I dabble in a bit of everything.”

“Yeah, you know what they say,” Five says reaching for a discarded newspaper, “Jack of all trades, master of none.”

“I’m actually kind of jealous of you,” Klaus ignores the slight. “You have another chance to experience the carefree recklessness of youth. The optimism of a future with endless possibilities. The miniscule refractory periods.”

His brother opens the newspaper in front of his own face as if creating a visual barrier between the two of them is enough to stop Klaus from pestering him. “There was nothing carefree about my youth.”

“Come on – we had some fun when we were kids.” He walks over and peers around the paper at Five. “Remember when we snuck out and got doughnuts?”

“I was never so sick in my life,” he grins despite himself.

“I remember the next morning, Pogo called us all down to the kitchen to have an ‘important conversation’, and we were shitting ourselves because we thought dad had found out about us sneaking out. But it turned out it was because mom had come up with names for all of us.” Klaus goes back over the stove and cracks an egg into the pan, then another. “What was the name mom tried to give you again?”

“Moshe. Didn’t sit right with me.”

“Yeah, you’re right that doesn’t suit you at all. You’re more of an Errol: the mysterious time-traveling assassin.”

Five folds the newspaper down to look at him. “You know, I gotta say, I don’t hate it.”

“So, all those years you had to think about it, you never came up with a name for yourself?” he asks putting a lid on the pan.

“I did. No one around in the apocalypse to call me by it, so it seemed pretty pointless.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense, what was it?”

Five grinds his teeth together and looks at him pointedly.

Klaus gasps, “It wasn’t _my_ name was it?”

He takes a deep breath and sighs, “Reggie.”

“Oh.” He says not quite processing the information. “Wait Reggie?! As in Reginald? Like dad? Why the hell would you name yourself after the man who tormented us?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he says simply.

“You bet your teeny bopper ass I don’t understand! You guys all got to practice Latin while I was locked in the mausoleum for hours. You think I would have ended up like this,” he gestures to his entire body, “if we had had a normal childhood.”

The chair screeches back against the kitchen floor as Five stands and slaps both palms on the table. Klaus knows it’s meant to be a power move, but it’s hard to take it seriously when he’s hardly any taller standing than sitting. “Did you ever think that maybe the reason dad was so hard on you is because he saw _potential_ in you?”

His mind flashes back to the meeting he’d had with his father in the afterlife, sitting in the barber’s chair. He doesn’t want to think about it right now, so he turns around and starts rummaging through the cabinets for a suitable bowl. “I’m never going to call you that,” he mutters under his breath.

Five sits back down and reads the paper, or maybe he’s just pretending to read it. The chilly silence between them is broken by the rattle of a steaming dish being set in front of him. “Shakshuka?” he asks looking down at the stew.

Klaus shrugs, “heavily bastardized, but yeah, that’s the idea.”

He lifts a spoonful and blows on it before putting it in his mouth. He swallows, expressionless then takes another bite. Well, he must like it or else he would certainly be firing off insults right now. Klaus pours himself another glass of water and joins his brother at the table.

When Five was actually a kid, he would bolt down every meal like eating was an inconvenience and he just wanted to get it over with. A few decades in the apocalypse seems to have given him an appreciation for a good meal.

Klaus gives him the charity of being silent until he’s nearly finished. “There has to be something you like about being in your teenage body again,” he says softly.

Five pulls the empty spoon from his mouth and smacks his lips, “My knees don’t ache like shit anymore, so there’s that.”

“So there’s that,” repeats a voice the corner. Fuck, Ben’s back.

“Someone else here?” Five asks catching him staring at the wall Ben is leaning against.

“Just some turnip-faced old dirt farmer.”

Ben as per usual throws his hands up in disbelief. He should really be used to the abuse by now.

Allison walks out of the bathroom just as Five is turning up the dish and draining it. “What smells so good out here?” She looks bubbly and ten times more sober.

“Brat was hungry.”

Five gives him a smartass smirk.

“What, you didn’t save any for me?” Allison asks grabbing her purse.

“We need to go, the others are probably waiting for us by now,” Five says getting up to put his bowl in the sink.

“I’ll take you out for lunch later,” Klaus tells her.

Five grips Klaus aggressively by the elbow and pulls him out of his chair. “You can talk about lunch plans on the way. We need to get a move on now.” He pulls his brother toward the door grabbing Allison by the arm on his way. This is practically affectionate for him.

The front door closes behind the three siblings, leaving Ben no choice but to walk straight through it as they all head toward their first family reunion in the three years. Or two. Or maybe it’s only been a few days. It really depends on who you ask.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm toying with the idea of doing a chapter like this for Klaus with each sibling, but I'm not sure if anyone is interested in reading this sort of thing. If I did, they would all be self-contained stories.
> 
> I've been really interested in trying decipher what all the character's love languages are. For the purposes of this story, Five's is 'acts of service' and Klaus's is 'words of affirmation.'
> 
> Also, it's my headcanon that Five was born in Israel. I've no evidence to back this up.


End file.
